


a candle against the cold wind

by Feanoriel



Series: A Tale of Fëanor and Nerdanel [7]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A lot of introspection, Aman isn't an easy place to live for Feanor, F/M, First Time, Introspection, Light Angst, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Romance, Smut, Years of the Trees, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-08 08:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20832374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feanoriel/pseuds/Feanoriel
Summary: In which Fëanor and Nerdanel talk about their relationship, travel across Aman, make out and eventually, Formenos is founded.





	1. I. Nerdanel

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @ **bunn** for the beta-reading!

It was the first time Nerdanel had seen so much snow.

Snow was rare in Tirion. Thanks to the will of Yavanna, the winter in Aman was short and mild, more rainy than snowy. Snow was rare, it happened only when the soil needed a long rest before returning to life in spring. Nerdanel didn’t even remember the last time it had snowed in Tirion: it had to be when her sister was very little.

This snow was different. It covered the mountains and the trees in a thick white cover, changing the landscape in a white dream. Walking among the snowy woods it _was_ dream-like, Nerdanel thought, for she couldn’t hear no tweeting of birds, no noise of branches being broken, and no wind between the leaves. It was a strange sensation, a sensation that made her want to take her notebook from her bag to try to capture it on paper. It would be difficult, and she had no hope that she would be able to _fully_ capture the dream-like atmosphere of the snowy woods, but she wanted so much to _try_. Her gaze got lost in the icy garlands that hung from the trees like marvellous crystal patterns, as if one of the glassmaker of Tirion, following a strange whims, had decided to play with melted glass. She wondered if she would ever been able to create something similar. Maybe melting the glass to a suitably high temperature … 

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Fëanáro’s voice interrupted for a moment the rush of her thoughts. Nerdanel turned towards him, and saw the dream-like smile on his face, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing, if he had the same wish to capture the magic of the wood in a work of art. 

“Yes, it is.” She smiled. The furry hood didn’t entirely cover Fëanáro’s fair face, and his grey eyes shone brighter than Varda’s stars.

“Watch this.” Fëanáro opened his gloved hand, showing her some snowflakes. Nerdanel was able to see their minuscule shapes, crystal-like patterns made of ice, before they melted.

“What a pity they melt so quickly,” commented Fëanáro. “I wish I could take them home, and study them. It would be an interesting experiment to make.”

“Maybe if we could preserve them in some way,” she said. “Maybe if we can recreate a cold enough habitat … we could study them like that.”

“It won’t be easy.” Fëanáro rubbed his chin. “I couldn’t think of a cold enough place in Tirion for us to study them. Maybe in the tunnels under Tùna, but even so, who could guarantee that the snow could survive the journey back home?”

“What about a place _here_?” Nerdanel replied. “The woodcutters of Tirion often build huts in the woods of Oromë. Maybe we should build a little hut just here, and bring all the tools we need for examining those snowflakes.”

Fëanáro’s smile widened, his eyes burned of a secret fire, like they always did when something moved his interest: “A good idea, indeed! A laboratory in the woods, for studying and taking notes of all the things we find in this part of world. We could even begin to mark the place right now, if we find some stones …”

Nerdanel could do nothing but smile back to him. Fëanáro’s enthusiasm for new projects was always overwhelming, and it was impossible to stay impassive in the face of the pure, radiant joy he released.

It was one of the reasons why she loved him so much. 

And she loved him even more, watching him smile and laugh at the snow that surrounded them. When Fëanáro smiled, he looked truly like the young man of fifty years that he truly was, only ten years younger than herself. 

She helped him to mark the place with some rocks they found. It took them some time to finish the work, for the rocks were heavy and made slippery from the snow, but in the end, they managed to mark the place with rocks in the shape of a cross.

“Good.” Fëanáro’s breath was transformed into smoke by the cold. “That’s the first step. The problem will be finding enough stones and wood to create a full-sized hut … and it will be hard, in this cold. Maybe if we return here in summer, having drawn a new project and with all the tools that we need, we can build a little house that will satisfy all our needs…”

“For now, let’s find enough wood for our fireplace!” she laughed a little. “There aren’t many hours left before sunset.”

“You’re right.” Fëanáro’s head turned towards the North. “If my calculations are right, then, we shouldn’t be far away from Mandos.”

For a moment, under the thick strates of wool and fur she was wearing, Nerdanel could do nothing but shiver. _Mandos_. The name of the grim Vala wasn’t often pronounced by the Elves of Tirion, for it was common statement that it brought bad luck. He was one of the Powers, therefore not of evil nature, aye, but still, the mere name of the Judge of the Dead reminded them of a dark age, an age in which the Elves feared the things that lurk in the darkness, and death was their constant companion, announced by the fell horn of the Dark Rider. 

Nobody wished to remember those moments, to remember those that got lost in the darkness and that now dwelled in the silent halls of the grim Vala. The mere idea that the Halls of Mandos weren’t far from them, that they were somewhere there, past the woods that surrounded them, and that in few hours, darkness would come … well, the thought made Nerdanel uncomfortable. 

“Better to find shelter, then,” she said, quicker than she had intended. She didn’t want Fëanáro to think that she was so easily scared by the mere name of the Judge of the Dead.

But Fëanáro wasn’t even watching her, his gaze was still lost towards North, far over the snowy pinnacles of the trees. 

“Aye” he murmured, his voice low. “I just wonder … Is anyone ever able to _see_ Mandos, to come near his halls? Has anyone ever trodden the stoney floor of the silent Halls of the Judge? The living aren’t supposed to speak with the dead ones, aye, but sometimes … sometimes I dream that I will be the one to do that.”

Nerdanel felt cold again, a cold that had nothing to do with the snow that surrounded them. She knew that gaze in his eyes. It was the same gaze he had worn on the few times that he had talked to her about his mother, about how she was still sleeping deep in the Gardens of Lórien. It was a gaze that Nerdanel had learned to hate and to fear, for she knew too well that it implied that Fëanáro wasn’t with her, but going far away, where she couldn’t follow him.

“_Fëanáro_,” Nerdanel gently took his hand in her own, a gentle touch, that didn’t force him, but did remind him that she was right here, where he needed her.

After just a heartbeat, that seemed long like a year to her, Fëanáro’s gloved fingers wrapped around hers. 

“I’m right,” he said, his voice low. He wasn’t still watching her. “I was just … I was just thinking …”

“I know what you was thinking,” Nerdanel observed her breath turn into smoke. “Fëanáro, _please_.”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have certain thoughts. But do you ever think about how this is _unjust_? I know the laws of the Valar, and I know that the living cannot speak with the dead, and that I can’t break their ban. But by Eru! I think that this is cruel. Knowing that my mother is near, so near to me, and I can’t go to her, I can’t speak to her, I can’t even _see_ her, to let her know how much I love her … why does Eru want to punish me so?”

Fëanáro turned towards her. His gaze was radiant, now, like a secret fire was burning into him. He was even more beautiful now, a prince made of marble and shadows, fair and terrible like the fire that made his spirit. 

“I don’t think that Eru wanted to punish you, Fëanáro,” she merely replied. 

“Maybe not” Fëanáro shook his head. “But here in Aman we were supposed to find eternal bliss, a bliss that would repay us of the long years that we spent into the darkness … well, all the inhabitants of Aman have found such bliss, except for me. Me alone. I’m deprived of the bliss that belongs to everyone else.”

Nerdanel took a deep breath. “Maybe …” she said, quietly measuring her words. “Maybe your bliss lie elsewhere. Bliss is not simply something that happened to us, sometimes, we have to build it with our hands. Or to search it in the people that are near to us.”

Fëanáro looked at her, and for a moment, it was like his eyes truly saw her. His fair eyes showed a whirl of different emotions.Then he suddenly realized what he had just said, and discomfort and guilt appeared on his face.

“I mean no offense to you,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean that I’m not happy with you, Nerdanel. I’m sorry, my dear.”

“I know,” she shrugged. “Fëanáro, I know you well and I know that you didn’t mean that. But … please be careful of what you say. The next time, it might be someone that doesn’t know you as well how I know you.”

“You’re right. But it’s only that…” he turned his head again North, towards a point that Nerdanel couldn’t see. “It’s just that I want to see her. Nothing else. I think that I could even bear the idea that I never knew her, that I grew up without seeing her smile, or her face, without having her near to me. I just want to see her once, and making her know how much I love her. Just that. I don’t wish for anything more. I don’t want to strip her of her peace, of the choice she made remaining in the Halls of Mandos. I only want to see her, and nothing else.”

She could only see his profile, but she was able to see all the same that his eyes were wet, that he was on the verge of tears. It was a strange sight, for she had never seen him crying when he was with her. He sometimes was sad, aye, or full of grief or rage, but never on the verge of tears. She had no idea what she could say.

So, she simply touched his cheek, with tenderness. It was the barest contact, just the fingertips against the cold skin of Fëanáro, but when he turned to her again, his gaze was wild, the gaze of a hunted animal. He moved a step back, it seemed without thinking.

“I’m fine” he said hastily. His voice had now a note of iron, a note she had never heard when he spoke to her. 

“You don’t seem so much _fine_ to me,” she replied. “Fëanáro, please …”

“You shouldn’t see me like that,” he took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t see me crying. What are you going to think of me? That I’m so weak that I act like a stupid child? I, who am supposed to be the heir of the High King.” He let out a trembling, harsh laugh. 

“Do you really think that I’m going to despise you because you cried? _Really_?” she moved her head. “Do you really think that I’m going to love you less because I see you crying?”

“Oh, no, of course not” Fëanáro rubbed his eyes. “Just … my mother is long gone. She wanted her peace, a peace that I couldn’t give to her, and I … I can’t get over that. I’m not able to say that I’m ready to let her go. I know only that if Eru would appear to me, and said that he would grant all my wishes … The only thing I would ask him is to get my mother back. Just that. I’m not over that, Nerdanel, and maybe I will never be. Are you really sure that you want _me_? That you want to marry someone that feels like that, that feels that there is something broken in him, that would never been healed? Are you really sure of that? 

Nerdanel stayed silent for a moment, unsure of what she was going to reply. She _loved_ Fëanáro, a love she had never felt for anyone. She loved him, for his passion, and his strength, and the fierce fire of his heart, the same fire that burned in his eyes when he told her he loved her, when he kissed her, when they slept side by side near the campfire. 

But aye, he was right when he said that loving him was _hard_. There were so many dark places in his mind, dark places in which she couldn’t follow him. She would never be able to fully understand the pain he felt for having lost his mother, for what she could say of such a terrible loss, losing his mother when he was nothing but a little child, in the middle of the Blessed Realm. 

And how could she do? The mere name of Mandos made her shiver, the idea of his Halls waiting for them somewhere, in the middle of the woods, made her feel cold. She couldn’t imagine what it meant being touched by the Death and the Shadow, and she had never wanted Death and Shadow to come near to her.

How could she have been so hopeful that her love was enough to soothe Fëanáro’s pain, the Shadow that constantly followed him? Nothing but the hope of a silly girl, that had always been called _wise_ only because she was so obedient to her parents, and not because she had _truly_ wise thoughts. 

Nerdanel had chosen to love him, and she would choose him above ten thousand suitors, but sometimes she felt so _unsure_ about what she had done. What if she wasn’t strong enough to bear the consequences of her choice? She had chosen Fëanáro, but could she bear the darkness that followed him?

After all, she would not choose to be consumed by darkness. She could not choose to be overwhelmed by his pain, to forget herself for his sake. No matter how much she loved him, he couldn’t ask her to sacrifice her happiness for him. 

But all the same, she couldn’t ask him to simply forget his pain and live without remembering his mourning for his mother. It was impossible. 

She let out a sigh. She had hoped that their love could do the impossible, would mend everything that would happen between them. But could it be? Their love was still so young and uncertain, would its flame survive to such trials and difficulties, or would it be extinguished like a candle in the cold wind? 

It wasn’t all like in the songs, where, when a girl and a boy fell in love, everything was always perfect and wonderful. In the real life, Nerdanel had to handle with all those dark parts of Fëanáro that she couldn’t simply erase, like they never existed. She had to watch them straight in their face, and to face them. 

“Fëanáro” she said, after some time. “You’re not broken. And even if you’re … nobody in Aman had lost what you had lost. How could I blame you for that? We have forgotten too easily what happened to us in the East Lands, far beyond the sea, where darkness and death awaited for us. Do you think that our forefathers didn’t cry when a beloved one didn’t return home? My grandmother still remembered when her husband, my grandfather, didn’t return from a hunt. She still mourns him. Why I should consider her weak, or broken, or you? And yes, I want _you_. You, that sometimes make me laugh or make me got angry. I don’t care if there’s a shadow in you, or in your name. The shadows only make the light shine even more brightly. Maybe there will be sorrow that awaits for us, but there will be joy and happiness too. Just … Just don’t let me alone. Don’t go where I can’t follow you, my love.”

Maybe her love was nothing more than the little flame of a candle against the cold wind, but she would resist any gust of wind, and maybe, in the end, she would be victorious.

She made a step towards him, and then, gently, embraced him, pushing her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, only enjoying the sensation of the warm body of Fëanáro against her own.

After some seconds, he embraced her back, folding her into his arms. Nerdanel felt his hot breath against her ear. 

“I won’t” he said. “Just … just… Nerdanel, I fear _so much_ to hurt you. I continually hurt the people I love. I still argue with my father, and Eru, the face he makes when he’s disappointed by me … it’s too much. Thus without speaking what I did to my mother. I … I will go mad if anything ever happens to you. I will never forgive myself, if something like that happens to you. And I’ve almost hurt you, before. Don’t deny it.” 

“I don’t suffer _for_ you, I suffered _with_ you. You miss the big difference.” Nerdanel gently released her right hand, and caressed his cheek once again. This time, Fëanáro didn’t flinch. “I suffered with you because I _love_ you, and I will share your sorrows as well as your joys. Do you wish that our lives should have no problem whatsoever? Yes, I wish that too, but it’s an impossible dream! And we can’t avoid our problems. We should face them. But we can face them _together_, and that will make all the difference.”

“You’re so hopeful” Fëanáro took her hand, and kissed her palm. “Nerdanel, you know that I would rather _die_ before hurting you. That I swear to you.”

“Well, even without your oath, I never thought you able to hurt me. Don’t be such a fuss.” she let out a sigh. “Fëanáro, dear. I’m not a Vala. I cannot magically resolve all our problems. But we’re here, and we can talk about it, talk about what troubles us so much. And maybe, after that we’ve talked about them, those will seem less terrible, less difficult. And we could face them together.”

She shook her head. “Do you think that I like the name of Mandos? I don’t. But Fëanáro, I cannot ignore the grief in your heart. But I’m hopeful we will find a way to face this, to resolve whatever trouble comes between us. I’m confident about that. Maybe it’s a foolish hope, but maybe my love can help you somehow. It’s all I can offer to you, Fëanáro, but I give it happily.”

“You’re such a kind heart. I don’t deserve you” he murmured, quietly. He gently kissed the top of her head. 

Nerdanel was going to say to him to not to exaggerate, when she heard a noise from the branches of the wood that made them turn immediately. She hoped it wouldn’t be a bear. Once, she and Fëanáro had committed the mistake of bothering a sleeping bear, and it wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat. 

There was another noise, this time much nearer, but it wasn’t the kind of noise that the big feet of a bear make. Nerdanel and Fëanáro released from their embrace, ready to face whatever was coming for them. Nerdanel thought about the hunting knife she had at her belt, and of the sword that Fëanáro always brought with him, but she hoped there would be no need for using them. 

The trees moved quietly, even if no wind was shaking them, and when they stopped, Nerdanel and Fëanáro weren’t alone anymore in the woods.

Right in front of them, there was a small figure, that barely reached Nerdanel’s breast. It looked like an elf-woman, but was smaller, with a skin grey like the bark of the birches, and long yellow-green hair that almost reached her waist.

Nerdanel stood astonished. She had heard in Tirion of the _Tavari_, who dwelled in the middle of the forests and followed the horn of the Vala Oromë, but she had never seen one of them. Fëanáro, right beside her, looked astonished too, as he always did when he found something that attracted his curiosity.

The Tavar moved a step towards them, her long, leaf-like hair flowing in a nonexistant wind. 

“Hello” Nerdanel said, uncertain of what to say. Seeing one of the _Tavari_ was not something that happened any day. “My name is Nerdanel Mahtaniel, and this is Fëanáro Finwion. We’ve no ill intentions. We come from Tirion the White, the high city of the Noldor in Aman. We are friends of your Lord, the Great Oromë.”

Fëanáro nodded, his eyes still focused on the small figure between the trees. From his expression, Nerdanel had no doubt that a lot of questions were filling his head. 

“As my companion said” he added. “We are friends of the Valar. I ask your permission to cut some wood, since we need to warm ourselves during this cold winter night.”

Nerdanel blushed to hear him speak of her like that. She and Fëanáro had confessed their love to each other ten thousand times, and they had shared the same bed by the campfire to keep them warm just as often, but they weren’t still officially engaged in Tirion, nor they had exchanged the silver rings of the betrothal. In truth, Fëanáro despised such formalities, saying that what truly mattered was what they felt for each other, not empty ceremonies or golden rings, but he would never dare to repeat such things in front of his father. 

“Agreed. Just remember to not cut much trees, and of not chasing too many animals” the _Tavar_ replied. Before Nerdanel could say anything more, the _Tavar_ had vanished into the woods as if she was a mere dream, or one of the visions that the Vanyarin minstrels used to evoke during their executions. 

“Well, that was surprising,” said Fëanáro. “I have never seen one of them in Tirion’s woods before.”

“Nor have I.” She let out a long breath. “Though my mother always spoke of them. She said that she had met one when she was little.”

“What a pity she vanished” said Fëanáro. “I’ve a lot of questions to ask her. Damn! If she had stayed just a little longer …”

“So that we would have time to sketch her?” Nerdanel smiled, but she had to admit that it would have been a good idea. 

For a moment, she wished to sit quiet somewhere - possibly in her study, but it was too many miles far away- and forget all the complicated emotions entangled in her mind. To simply give herself to the pure joy of creating something, of seeing a drawing appear under her fingers, or a statue under her chisel. She wanted so much to be in her laboratory, making the glass melt in the same shapes of the icicles that she had seen before …

She hadn’t forgotten her original project, to recreate the magic of the icicles that fell on the trees like long lances made of ice. Nerdanel thought of hanging the glass icicles in her atelier, and seeing the surprise and the awe on the faces of the people that would visit her. She giggled for a moment.

And she would sculpt the _Tavar_, too. Maybe she could use the delicate onyx marble that she had ordered from the West Mines, for recreating the effect of her skin. And she could paint her hair with golden powder, so recreating the effect of that long, wild hair … 

“You are laughing” Fëanáro watched her, and now at last, a smile appeared on those soft, full lips. “I love when you laugh.”

“Me too.” She turned towards him, and gently put her head on his shoulder again. “What a pity you do it so rarely. When we will be able to spend all our time together, I will make it my goal to make you laugh at least two times in each day.”

This time, it was his turn to giggle. “Such a serious oath, my Istarnië.” Nerdanel blushed again. Fëanáro called her like that only in their most intimate moments. “I must surely help you to fulfill that!”

“You should.” she patted his chest. “ I can be terribly stubborn when I want to, my dear. When I promise something to myself, be sure that I will always fulfill it, sooner or later. You will soon realize that. Loving me had some … implications.” 

“Oh, my Nerdanel, my beautiful, fierce Nerdanel” his hands were on her ankles, now. “You know you’re for me what Varda is for Manwë, what the soft rays of Laurelin are for the trembling plants, what water is for the thirsty. Your love is all I can desire, and even more. I love your stubbornness, and all your little perfect flaws. And by Eru, my Istarnië, sometimes I wish to be more like you.”

“I’m glad you have no problem with such implications.” Nerdanel blushed. Fëanáro’s compliments had made her heart warm, and she could felt it beat against her chest. “But Fëanáro, if you were exactly like me, our relationship would be very boring, don’t you think so?”

He finally laughed, a long, heartfelt laugh, and bent to kiss her. A cold wind arose from the North, and blew among the snowy trees and past their entwined bodies, but Nerdanel didn’t care. She threw her arms around Fëanáro’s neck, as the wind pulled their hoods back and lifted their hair until it mingled, long curls of a flaming copper entangled with raven-black silk.


	2. II. Fëanor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is beta-read by @ **bunn**, too. Thank you!

Fëanáro, afterwards, had no need to collect wood. Not after they had found the cave.

They had entered the cave, a little entrance at the foot of a big hill, almost without thinking. They needed a shelter for the night, and if such a cave was empty of bears or wolves, it would be perfect. 

They hadn’t expected the cave to be so deep. And it had been a bigger surprise when they had discovered the big pool within it, surrounded by rocks that they had discovered to be strangely warm.

“A hot spring,” Nerdanel said, after having carefully touched the water of the pool. It was warm, indeed, but not so much to be unbearable for their skin. They had heard about warm springs in the far North from Oromë’s hunters, but they had never seen one until now. “It’s incredible.”

“Indeed” Fëanáro touched the warm rocks that surrounded the pool, creating fantastic shapes at the light of their lamps. They wouldn’t need to light a campfire to keep them warm, that night. “We should mark this place someway. We need to find it again, if we are going to return one day.”

“Yes, especially if we want to build the laboratory we have talked about.” Nerdanel let out a long breath. Fëanáro couldn’t help noticing how _beautiful_ she was , even if she was wearing thick clothes that hid her curves. 

“What if we don’t limit ourselves to a mere laboratory?” he said. An idea had suddenly come to him, and he let his gaze wander on the dark water of the pool, on the high columns of rocks that supported the roof, and on the thick stalactites that hung from it. “What if there were more of those springs in the deep of the hill? What if we start to build a house on the top of this hill? We could have the laboratory we need, and a lot more too. _We could have a house, all for us, far away from the chattering and the rumours of Tirion. We could come here anytime we want to take a break from the city. It would be a place that belongs to us, and to us alone_, he thought, but he didn’t say it out loud, not yet.

“It’s an idea.” She smiled, a smile that made her hazel-green eyes shine in the lamplight. “Only… Let’s ask the permission to Oromë and Yavanna before cutting any tree for our house.”

“Of course” Fëanáro smiled to her back. He knew how respectful of the Valar she was, not even her dating with him had changed that. 

“Great,” she moved her head. “We will need a lot of woodcutters, carpenters, construction workers … The far north is going to be very popular, after all!” she giggled. “We should ask among my father’s friends if there is someone that could help us.”

He nodded. “Enough people will be willing to help the heir of the High King to raise a winter palace in the North.” As the firstborn prince, his word had still a certain weight in Tirion, no matter of the fact that the new princelings seemed to be popular among the commonfolk. 

“I expect so.” She exhaled. “But first … oh, in the name of Eru, I need a hot bath _so much_. If there’s anything I miss of Tirion, it’s that. These two months in the wildlands have been long.”

She was undoubtedly right -- and Fëanáro too needed a hot bath, he couldn’t avoid thinking of that -- but Eru, it had _implications_. Fëanáro could do nothing but blush, and he was glad that the shadows of the lamp was partially hiding his face. It was a comforting thought, though, that she wanted to share such an intimate moment with him, after what they had said to each other that afternoon, in the forest. 

“Of course” he muttered. “Have your bath. I’m going to stay here, and -_ehm_\- I won’t watch you, I swear.”

_Why in the name of Eru am I so embarrassed?_, he asked to himself. He and Nerdanel had kissed a lot of times before, and his hands as slipped more than once under her dresses, as her hands with him. He had even swore to himself that, if he wouldn’t marry Nerdanel, he wouldn’t marry someone else, then _why_ he was blushing like a maiden at her wedding night?

“How chivalric!” she replied, a note of amusement clear in her voice. “But you could join me, if you wish. You need a bath as much as I do.”

Fëanáro took a deep breath. He slowly lowered himself, putting his lamp -the lamp _he_ had created- on the soil, and then took another breath. “Yes, good idea. Just … just let me be a minute.”

“Very well.” Nerdanel slowly began to undress herself, her movement calm and precise, casting aside the long coat of wool and fur, then the skirt, the shirt and the breeches she wore, glimpses of soft skin that appeared between the clothes.

Fëanáro couldn’t stop himself from blushing again, when finally Nerdanel stood on the shore of the pool, wearing nothing but her corset and underwear, softly putting her toes in the hot water for feeling the temperature once again. He had never seen her like that. They had always been dressed when they shared kisses and caresses in the woods behind Nerdanel’s house, when her father wasn’t around. 

After a moment of hesitation, Nerdanel managed to remove even these last clothes and stood naked in the pale light of the lamp, allowing Fëanáro’s gaze to rest on her her, to see her as he had always desired to do. 

Nerdanel was tall, aye, with strong arms and a muscular back, but all the same, she was so intrinsically _feminine_ in her shape, with large hips, a narrow waist, and a generous bosom. Fëanáro’s heart began to beat faster at the very sight of her naked breasts, of how they moved as she walked into the water, the long copper curls loose on her shoulders. 

_Valar, she is so beautiful_, he thought. He had seen a lot of naked maidens at the river in which the youths of Tirion come for swimming during the summer, but they were always slender and willowy, nothing like Nerdanel and her generous curves. 

He had never felt any kind of arousal in watching them naked: only Nerdanel, and Nerdanel alone, had such an effect on him. 

Fëanáro could feel his erection pressed against the texture of his clothes, and his face getting heated. He wanted so much to run his fingers in that glorious copper hair, to caress those large hips, to take her pink nipples into his hands until they hardened under his touch. 

He watched her muscled arms as she gently began to wash herself, cupping the water in her hands, and softly rubbing her wet hair. Fëanáro felt his breath get ragged. This was a woman that could easily lift a hammer, or bring heavy sacks of coil into the forge, or that could hold him without too much effort. His mouth watered at the mere thought. 

“You aren’t coming in?” she was watching him now, her hazel-green eyes full of the same desire that burned in his loins. Her lips were slightly parted, full and sensual.

“Yes” in some way, Fëanáro managed to raise himself, and slowly began to undress himself, hearing the clothes fell on the floor almost without thinking. He stood naked in front of her, letting her admire him, the muscles he had got in all those long hours of working at the forge. He wanted her to watch him as he had watched her. 

Nerdanel’s eyes slowly devoured him, her gaze that shone more than the light of Laurelin and Telperion. When her gaze fell on his groin, a mischievous smile appeared on her lips.

Fëanáro decided he could wait no longer. He slowly immersed himself in the pool, taking some seconds to enjoy the sensation of the hot water against his naked skin, and then went towards her. She was waiting for him with her arms open, and the mischievous smile hadn’t left her lips for a moment.

They kissed, a hungry kiss, hands searching for each other, lips and teeths clasping together. They laughed when their noses hit, and then they kissed again.

Fëanáro had kissed Nerdanel many times before, but kissing her naked was a totally new experience. Her soft, naked breasts gently pressed against his chest, nipples hardened by passion. Fëanáro gently slid his tongue into her mouth, feeling her part her lips to welcome him, her breath ragged and hot against him. Their tongues touched, and his knees felt weak.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin. He hadn’t forget the words she had said to him that afternoon, how she had said to him that she would never leave him, that she would always be by his side. The words had filled his heart of love and hope, hope for a future together, a future in which there would be only them and perhaps their children, if.... 

She had chosen him, despite everything, despite the Shadow that haunted his past, like a spot that would never be cleaned. And thinking about that in such a moment, between her arms, so near to her, hearing her soft moans into his ears, Fëanáro truly felt _blessed_, more than he had ever felt during his entire life in Aman. 

He traced a long series of kisses along her neckline, her skin hot and wet against his mouth. He gently began to go down, towards her breasts. 

“Oh, Fëanáro!” Nerdanel moaned, when his lips touched the soft flesh of her left breast.

Fëanáro stopped for a moment, then looked her straight in her eyes, those beautiful, warm eyes that looked over him like he was the most precious thing in all the world. “Should I continue?” he said.

“Oh, yes! Yes!” she panted, her full bosom that rose and fell under her ragged breath. “Please, continue. Don’t stop now.”

“I won’t.” Fëanáro placed a first, hesitant kiss on her left breast. Then another, this time more passionately.

Nerdanel threw back her head when his mouth covered her nipple, taking it into his mouth. Fëanáro took some time for sucking and softly biting it, feeling it hard into his mouth. A wave of heat flooded across his body, ending into his groin and making him moan.

Fëanáro did the same thing at her right nipple, then continued to move, licking the soft flesh of her breasts, and the soft, sensitive skin immediately under them. He felt Nerdanel shiver, as he passed his tongue over it, and her hands gripping his shoulders.

How many times he had desired to do such a thing? He had dreamed her like that so many times, when he lay alone in his bedchamber. He had fantasised of her lying naked in his bed, her legs spread on the sheets, her copper hair all around her like a halo of fire, her cheeks reddened by passion, her lips parted like in a kiss, whispering his name as if in a prayer … 

Fëanáro stopped for a moment, resting his head against the curve of her belly. She had freckles even in such parts of her body, he noticed, before closing his eyes for a moment. He thought that he could remain here forever, lulled by the blissful heat of the hot water and of her warm skin against his own.

He had rarely felt such bliss in his whole life. Fëanáro had always thought of himself as a lonely person, and he had been such, for the most part of his life, too immersed in his studies or his work at the forge to make many friends, or even to permit his father to mend the wound that had opened between them. And so he had been, until Nerdanel had come, with her gentle hands and her heartful laugh, with her fiery spirit and her equally solitary nature, his peer in mind and intellect as well as in creativity and strength, someone he had never hoped to meet in his whole life. 

Fëanáro felt as if somewhere within him, deep in his heart, there had been a place full of ice, a place that had been so since he could remember, since the time his mother had left him. And that now, this place was melting under the tender love of Nerdanel like ice in spring, like if the thaw had finally come for him. And he had the impression that he was living a new spring, so full of life and hope as he felt. 

He kissed her navel, then traced a long series of kisses across her belly, until he came between her legs, her flesh hot under his tongue. He stopped here, near to the dark copper hair that covered her groin, letting his breath tickle her, enjoying the mere sensation of feeling her shiver under it. Fëanáro smiled, a long, wicked smile.

He placed a kiss between her legs, just on the juncture between her thighs. He had expected to find her wet - after all, they were in the water- but not of feeling on his tongue such a _delicious_ taste, a taste that made him stop for a moment, before he got overwhelmed by such sensation.

“Don’t stop, _please_” he heard her whisper, her voice so far away. Fëanáro took a deep breath, and rested a moment against her thigh, his eyes closed. 

“Oh, _Istarnië_” he sighed. He didn’t use that name much -it was the name her mother gave her, it was _private_\- and he took his time to taste it, like he had tasted the juices of her body just before. 

He kissed her again, this time lower, exactly on the point where her flower opened. He felt her almost scream, and he grinned against her skin, of a long, satisfied grin. Fëanáro let his tongue slid into her, tasting her once more -oh, again that _delicious, sweet taste_\- and he knew that he was doing the right thing when his tongue touched _that_ sensitive point inside of her, that made her shiver and moan once more. 

He wasn’t expert, aye. He had no idea of what he was doing, he had simply tried to do something that could please her. But he knew, in that exact moment, that Nerdanel was enjoying every moment of it, and he surely wouldn’t stop _now_

Fëanáro gently licked her clit, rubbing his tongue on it again and again. He kissed her labia, gently opening them with his own lips, sliding her tongue into her. He felt like he was drinking some kind of sweet wine, for he felt so drunk with _her_, with her taste, her scent, the sensation of her skin under his mouth. He gripped her thighs, making her muffle a little scream, keeping her even more near to him.

On her part, Nerdanel seemed to enjoy what he was doing as much as he did. Then her hands grabbed his hair, keeping him near to her, an ungentle touch - a novelty, for her- that only made him even hungrier for her. 

It was then that Fëanáro heard her sobbing, her words fragmentary: “Oh, Fëanáro! Don’t stop now, _don’t_”

Fëanáro exhaled, inspiring the scent of her arousal, so poignant and so spicy, even after she had washed herself. He used his fingers for teasing her labia, slowly beginning to penetrate her, first with one fingers, then with two, when he heard her moan even more. 

He continued to suck, to lick and to tease her with both his fingers and his tongue, until Nerdanel was brought on the edge of pleasure, and she came with a muffled scream against his lips. Fëanáro could do nothing but grin, and gently stroke her with his nose. 

“Oh, in the name of the Valar,” she fell into his arms, grabbing his shoulders as if all her strength had left her. “Fëanáro, you’re absolutely _marvellous_.”

He could do nothing but let out soft laughter, and gently embraced her back, resting his chin on her head. “I know that.” he replied, and kissed her hair.

Nerdanel closed her eyes, and rested for a moment against his naked chest, letting her breath slowly get regular. He felt her relax in his arms, and gently run a hand on her back, between her copper locks. 

They remained like so for some moments, until Nerdanel released their embrace for placing a butterfly kiss on his lips. 

She placed her hands on his chest, spreading the fingers on his warm skin. “Fëanáro” she whispered. “Now, let me please you back.”

He smiled a wicked grin: “As you wish, my Istarnië.”

She kissed him again, this time a longer, hungrier kiss. Then her hands slowly began to descend on his body, on his belly, then down again, between his legs. Fëanáro let out a long, guttural moan, as her hands closed on his erection, and white stars exploded under his closed eyelids. 

*

Afterwards, they lay side by side on their campsheets, their bodies entwined. In truth, they had no need to share their body heat, since the rocks were warm enough to keep them heated, but they for nothing in the world would they have renounced the sensation of their bodies close together.

Fëanáro had his arms around Nerdanel’s waist, her head on his chest. He heard her regular, calm breathing, and could do nothing but smile. 

Fëanáro exhaled the warm air of the cave, and Nerdanel’s peculiar scent, the scent that never left her, not even after the bath. Far away from him, from the warm point of the cave, there were snow and wolves and cold, and, somewhere in the darkness, in ambush like a predator, the Halls of Mandos lay, calling him with false promises of a mother’s embrace. But this time, he knew he was not alone.

Aye, his father could say that his love for Nerdanel was still young, still so uncertain, nothing more than a little candle against the cold wind. But he was the _Spirit of Fire_, after all. His candle could burn more fiercely than any wind.

“What are you thinking?” murmured Nerdanel, gently caressing his legs with her feet. 

Fëanáro laughed. “I was thinking about the children I want to have with you.” he said. “Boys and girls, all with your beautiful flaming hair and your adorable freckles.”

Nerdanel smiled, a smile that, once again, filled his heart with joy. “You’re always so flattering.” she replied. “But I like the idea that our children will have your face, too.”

Fëanáro closed his eyes, and stroke his cheek against her hair. “We will have all the children you like, my Istarnië, I swear. Boys, girls, with red or dark hair.”

She didn’t reply, but simply placed a kiss over his neck. He held her, and it was so that they lay there together, lulled in a bliss of heat and love, in that exact position, until sleep caught them both, and the night left place to a new dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Fëanor and Nerdanel have found the place in which they are going to build Formenos. My headcanon is that Formenos is built over a warm spring. Also, the warm spring of this chapter is inspired to the one of Grjótagjá, in Iceland.   
Also: it’s canon that Formenos isn’t too far away from Mandos, even if, of course, the exact location of both the places is uncertain. 
> 
> Thanks to all the ones who has read or commented!

**Author's Note:**

> The _Tavari_, or wood-sprites, are a rejected part of the canon of the Book of Lost Tales. Tolkien originally intended the Elves and the _geni loci_ as two different kind of creatures, but he later rejected this concept when he expanded the idea of the Maiar. Anyway, I like the idea of the _Tavari_ as sprites that follow the Vala Oromë. (Mostly because this bounds to my headcanon of Oromë as the King of Faeries. Ah ehm)
> 
> Fëanor is 50 years old at the time of this story, Nerdanel is 60 years old. Thus implying that they’re, more or less, 18/19 circa Fëanor and 19/20 circa Nerdanel. 
> 
> The smut will arrive in the next chapter!


End file.
